


Shade of Scarlet

by noplacespecial



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003), Battlestar Galactica (2003) RPF
Genre: Angst, Community: bsg_pornbattle, F/M, Het, Mental Illness, Porn Battle, Romance, bsg_pornbattle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-07
Updated: 2009-12-07
Packaged: 2017-10-04 06:17:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noplacespecial/pseuds/noplacespecial
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Battlestar</i>'s been over for six months and he's still seeing her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shade of Scarlet

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://community.livejournal.com/bsg_pornbattle/profile)[**bsg_pornbattle**](http://community.livejournal.com/bsg_pornbattle/); prompt was 'that red dress'.

**Disclaimer:** Baltar and Six are the property of the Sci-Fi (SyFy) Network, Ron Moore, and David Eick Productions. No copyright infringement is intended. James Callis, Trisha Helfer, Tamoh Penikett, and Katee Sackhoff are not charactes, but real people, and this story and its author do not make any sort of supposition about their personal lives.

~*~

_Battlestar_'s been over for six months and he's still seeing her.

At first he thought he was just imagining things, daydreaming. The final episodes are in the can, but there's still press and appearances to be done, and he's running on zero sleep. And who hasn't had the occasional erotic daydream when they're not performing at their fullest? Alright, granted, it's never starred the figment of a fictitious character's imagination before, but whatever. He's not going crazy.

He is _not_ going crazy.

Except that the...daydreams (yeah, he'll stick with daydreams, hallucinations makes him sound like he's...well, _crazy_) just get more and more vivid. She starts out smiling at him from across a room. A week later she's whispering in his ear. Two days after that he has an actual conversation with her.

"Trish, I don't know who put you up to this, but it's _not funny_," he hisses. The others are right outside the bathroom door and he just saw Tricia twelve seconds ago wearing jeans and a blue tank top, but it's completely plausible that she could have had time to cut, dye, and curl her hair and put on _that red dress_ in the time that it took him to duck into the loo. Maybe she was hiding one of the wardrobe wigs in her purse. Yes, clearly that's it.

"Don't you think it's a little late to pretend that you don't know me?" she says with a deep chuckle. James glares.

"If this is some sort of twisted role-play I want no part in it," he says firmly. He realizes, then, that he's still got his dick in his hand. Turning away from her in the stall, he flushes the toilet and begins to tuck himself back into his pants, but she grabs his wrist before he has the chance and _oh my god she's touching him this is real._

He's at a loss for words, because there is _absolutely no way_ that this can be happening. "What do you want from me?" he chokes out. She laughs again.

"I think you already know the answer to that one," she responds, leaning in to murmur the words in his ear. And then she's got her hands inside his fly.

_Fuck_, that feels good.

James lets his head loll back until it hits the stall door, and she continues working his cock. She tugs gently, and though he winces in pain has no choice but to lean towards her. She maneuvers him until he's sitting on the toilet, raging hard-on sticking out from the flap of his boxers. With a sly smile she lifts the hem of _the dress_. She does it slowly, painfully so...inch by inch so that by the time she has it high enough that he can see she's completely bare beneath it, he's practically salivating. He clenches his fists at his side and she raises an eyebrow.

"Must I do all the work myself?" she asks. James gulps. _Technically_, this isn't cheating. At least he doesn't think so. Actually he has no idea, but apparently he's crazy, and crazy people can't be held responsible for their actions.

Whatever the reason, he reaches out and slides two fingers inside her blissfully wet channel. She moans softly, tips her head back to expose the pale, delicate column of her throat. But she's still standing and that delicious-looking flesh is way too far away from him, so he pulls his fingers out and grabs her roughly by the hips, yanking forward until she falls into his lap. Everything is soft - her skin, her dress, her hair. James groans deep in his throat as he's surrounded by that softness. But not all the way - he rocks his hips back and feels himself grind against her dripping pussy. Just...over...and _there_ it is, he sinks all the way in without meeting any resistance.

The flesh of her neck is just as sweet as it looked.

When he has marked her properly, he pulls back to admire his handiwork. Saliva, teeth marks, and a blooming bruise are proudly displayed on her skin, but she's so involved in riding him that she doesn't even seem to notice. James watches their bodies move, hidden beneath the red fabric of her dress. It takes all he has not to rip it off of her completely, but it's almost hotter knowing what's going on under there without being able to actually see it. Besides, he's distracted by two other parts of her anatomy that are currently rising at falling right at his eye level. He's been wanting to get his hands on those babies for years.

He does tear the dress, accidentally, in his eagerness to free her breasts, but it's completely worth it. He sucks one nipple into his mouth, nibbles and sucks. He rolls the other between his thumb and forefinger, then he switches. She squeals when he pinches both at the same time, and the sound goes straight to his groin. He grasps her hips firmly and delivers one brutal thrust after another, rougher than he's ever allowed himself to be with any woman. Can't hurt a crazy man's delusions, can you?

Can't get a crazy man's delusions pregnant, either; or at least he hopes, because when he finally erupts inside of her he realizes that the thought of birth control never even occurred to him. Blame it on years of marriage.

_Marriage. Fuck._

"I need to go," he sputters, shoving her off of him. The front of his boxers are soaked so all he can do is hope that the mess doesn't sink into his suit pants. He hastily wipes himself clean as much as possible with a wad of toilet paper and tucks his shirt into his waistband. When he turns back around she's still there, sprawled out with her breasts still bare and her legs spread wide, her hand disappearing beneath her dress between them. James gulps. Her fingers are slick when they emerge, and he watches in awe as she slides them between her glistening lips.

"I hope you don't think you're going to be able to run away from me," she drawls. She cleans her fingers and rises to stand, regal and elegant even with cum and saliva still clinging to her lips and hands. James backs up until he hits the door, the coat hanger digging into his back, and before he can blink she's on him. Her lips are as intoxicating as the rest of her...possibly more. Despite himself, he feels his body giving into the slide of her tongue and the burning cavern of her mouth. He tastes the tang of her juices, feels her pebbled nipples through the thin cotton of his shirt. Just as he's about to toss in the towel and cup them in his hands, the men's room door clatters open. He jumps, swears, and spins around to unlock the door. When he opens it just a crack and peeks out, he sees Tamoh at the sinks furiously trying to scrub a stain off of his lapel. He glances up in the mirror and smiles sheepishly.

"Can't take me anywhere," he jokes. James nods, turns his head. She's still behind him. With Tamoh still watching, her hand trails his shoulder. If Tamoh notices, he gives no indication of it - the only thing he seems to notice is James' own squirrely behavior.

"You okay?" he says.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. Yes, I'm fine. Better. Great!" Tamoh quirks a brow, but turns his attention back to his soiled suit without comment. Suddenly James knows what Baltar goes through every day.

"I'll be seeing you," she whispers in his ear. He swallows thickly and closes the door behind him.

When he returns to the party, Tricia comes up to slide her arm through his and squeeze affectionately.

"God I'm exhausted," she complains. "How much longer before we can duck out of here without looking rude?" James cranes his head to inspect both sides of her throat. All he sees is smooth, tanned skin, no purpling hickey marring the color. Tricia regards him with an expression similar to Tamoh's.

"Are you alright?" she asks. James smiles nervously.

"Fine," he says. "Just fine." He finds he can't quite get the words out without his voice cracking in betrayal.


End file.
